


Exposure

by Cinnatales



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Serial Killers, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnatales/pseuds/Cinnatales
Summary: Beaten down detective Sebastian Castellanos is at the end of his rope. The ruins of his family have left him in shambles, and only the comfort of a glass of whiskey can make the days more bearable. Though, a deadly encounter in the middle of the night marks new beginnings, dragging him further down into the case on Krimson City’s serial killer.With headless victims turning up frequently, and dead ends that mark a mastermind of a murderer, Sebastian is challenged left and right with this case. As he’s thrown into obsession, and the killer’s interest in him grows sicker and sicker, one man seems to tie it all together: an infamous artist known as Stefano Valentini.He just might be the key to solving this case.
Relationships: Sebastian Castellanos/Stefano Valentini
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Exposure

It’s a lonely night in Krimson City, a sliver of the moon the only beacon of light piercing through the inky depths of the sky. Sebastian’s boots clack softly against concrete, his hands stuffed within the depths of his worn trench coat as he wanders the streets. He travels the roads currently untouched by crowds and traffic, devoid of the usual bustling of life within the hours of daylight. It leaves the detective alone with his thoughts, with memories and reminiscing. 

Of better times, of Myra’s goodbye letter, _of Lily’s screams in his nightmares._

He’s disappointed in himself, disappointed that he only finds sleep at the bottom of an empty bottle nowadays, but he cannot handle being left alone with memories of _them._ Without it, without a distraction, he’d lie awake in bed for hours, sometimes staring up at the ceiling or the far wall, sometimes with his eyes squeezed shut as he tosses and turns. He’s haunted by her face every night, of flesh melting away, of eyes burning red, of charcoal stained hands gripping at his shoulders. 

_Always too late._

He huffs out a shaky breath, steps nearly faltering. _God_ _,_ _he needs a drink, just a little farther and he’ll be at the downtown-_

_Click._

Brown hues lift at the soft shutter through the air, head raising as he inspects his surroundings. He’s almost believing it’s his imagination, a figment of his sleep deprived mind when- 

_Click._

He hears it again. A flash of white light accompanies it, spilling out from a shrouded alleyway. Sebastian’s feet move on their own accord, dragging him towards the source like a moth drawn to a flame. _Who the hell is taking pictures at this hour? And within an alleyway no less?_

That’s when a tang of copper hits his nose, intertwined with the underlying sweet, familiar scent of rot. On instinct, his hand is hovering over his revolver, nerves bristling at attention. 

He’s pausing right at the mouth of the alleyway, brows furrowing as he takes a shaky breath through his nose. In one swift motion he’s turning down the corner. What greets him is the carnage of a young woman. A headless corpse lied out across pavement, rivets of red spilling from the juncture of her severed neck, staining her yellow dress. Rose petals decorate her, pale hands clutching at a bouquet, pressing it to her chest. Standing before the flowery slaughter is a man dressed in black, a gloved hand framing his camera as it obscures his face. 

The man jerks at the sight of Sebastian, and then there’s a glint of silver, a flick of his wrist. Sebastian is ripping out his revolver, when his left shoulder is suddenly giving out, igniting with a searing pain. His gun clatters to the ground, teeth gritting together as he bites back a cry. 

**Click.**

He’s blinded by the flash of light, forcing his eyes shut as he jerks his arm up in defense. A sadistic chuckle taints the air, before there’s the retreating clacks of dress shoes. He’s blinking several times in desperation, his vision coming back to him right as the maniac’s back disappears behind a corner. 

“Stop!” He yells, chasing after him despite the agony coursing through his shoulder, at how it nearly makes his boots drag. When he rounds the corner with shaky breaths, the man is gone. 

… 

The soft beeps of a heart monitor fill Sebastian’s ears, distracting him from the nurse’s gloved fingers as she checks over the stitches in his shoulder. After a brief moment of poking and prodding, she’s dressing the sutured wound with a soft hum. 

“Alright Mr. Castellanos, you should be good to go. Make sure to keep your stitches dry for at least 48 hours, and keep them clean. We wouldn’t want you to end up back in here because of an infection! And please, don’t put any strain on your shoulder.” 

The detective simply grunts in acknowledgement, eager to get back on his feet and leave this sterile cage as soon as possible. _He never was fond of hospitals and two days was certainly long enough for him._

“Your friend also brought in a change of clothes for you. He’s waiting for you out in the lobby.” 

Sebastian waves her off with a tired, “Thanks.” before taking the bundle of folded clothes that is presented to him. 

He’s shuffling off into the bathroom, the door closing behind him with a soft _click,_ ensuring him with a bit of privacy for the time being. His gaze rests upon his reflection, black ringed eyes staring wearily back at him from the mirror. He sheds the hospital gown with careful fingers, revealing the square of white protecting his newly acquired stitches. 

The man’s taunting _laughter_ echoes in his ears, the headless body of that poor woman stained behind his eyelids. _It was him;_ he’d recognize that work anywhere, his crimes pasted front right and center upon every newspaper and tabloid. The serial killer plaguing Krimson City. 

_He had him,_ he was so close to putting an end to his reign of bloodshed, and yet he _failed_. If only he had been faster, more prepared, _then perhaps that blade wouldn’t have punctured his shoulder and that bastard wouldn’t have gotten away. How the hell did he even do that?_ Who the hell throws knives with such unnatural precision? The whole thing is downright _insane._

And... Why was he taking pictures of the victim? 

With a sigh, he’s tugging on his new shirt, wincing ever so slightly when he jostles his shoulder. _He better not keep_ _Joseph_ _waiting._

… 

Rain drops pelt against the standard issued police car, windshield wipers rapidly whisking droplets away, keeping a clear view of the road as thunder booms overhead. The bitter aroma of coffee wafts through the interior, settling over Sebastian and his partner Joseph. Sebastian’s hands are warmed by the paper cup clasped within them, that heavy fog of weariness beginning to part as caffeine courses through his veins. 

_He really needed that._

“Hey... Are you doing alright?” Joseph’s voice is... _Careful,_ as if Sebastian is a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at the slightest movement. 

He doesn’t blame Joseph for his wary approach, he hasn’t spoken to him properly in weeks aside from work, and frankly, he’s grown used to tight smiles and pitying eyes. 

“Besides having to spend two days in a hospital and being knifed by a psychopath? I’m fine. It’s a little difficult to move my shoulder, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” He assures, before taking a long sip from his coffee. 

Joseph nods, a small sigh escaping his lips, “I’m glad to hear it.” 

They lapse into silence, having Sebastian fidget in his seat, fingers drumming against the paper cup. It's uncomfortable, the quietness between him and Joseph. It was never like this before. 

“Thanks...” Sebastian breaks through suddenly, eyes kept pointedly to the towering buildings drifting by, “I mean it, you didn’t have to do all of this. You really are a life saver.” 

There’s no response, and for a moment, Sebastian believes that he won’t be answered at all. That is, until he’s glancing over, catching sight of the small smile brightening his partner’s face. It’s definitely a welcomed sight. 

“Yeah... It’s no problem,” Joseph states, pleased and reclining back against the car seat, almost like old times, “I just figured you’d need a little pick me up before you see the chief.” 

And as quickly as it comes, the warmth within Sebastian’s chest dispels, his mood souring. He almost scoffs at the mention of the chief, and the fact that he is being called in _again._ It doesn’t help that Joseph is the one to deliver the news. 

“The chief wants to see me? _I wonder what I did this time_ ,” He remarks dryly, almost accusingly. 

Joseph goes rigid, quickly realizing his mistake, his lips pursing into a thin line, “Sebastian... I-” 

“I know, you don’t have to tell me again. It was for my ‘own good’, even if my work remained _unaffected_.” 

Joseph’s hands tighten against the steering wheel, eyes going dark as he grits out, “Has it ever occurred to you that I wasn’t worried about your work? That I was worried about you?” 

Sebastian pauses at that, taken aback. 

“I still am, you know. I only reported you because... _You were falling apart._ You quietly sink into a bottle and-” 

“Joseph-” He bites out. 

“And pretend everything is fine when it isn’t! You were out late that night, you called for help at nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. Don’t tell me you were just going out on a ‘nightly stroll’. Can’t you just think about your life for a second?” 

“That’s enough!” Sebastian snaps, his hand squeezing around the coffee cup, threatening to crush it into a scalding mess, “I’m not in the mood for a fucking interrogation! It hardly matters. _Not when another girl is dead._ ” 

Joseph goes quiet, leaving Sebastian to stew in an uncomfortable silence once more. He’s left glancing over at his partner, and when he does, a lump gathers in his throat. Joseph’s expression is grave, brow creased in defeat. 

“Joseph I-” 

“Listen. I know it’s none of my business, but... I’m just concerned about you, Seb. That’s all. I just wish you’d talk to me,” Joseph sighs out quietly. 

Guilt prickles within Sebastian’s heart. He’s huffing out a shuddering sigh, almost tempted to spill his hardships, about how difficult it is to just… _Keep going._ But... Joseph doesn’t deserve that, he deserves a solid partner, and Sebastian is only going to weigh him down. 

And so, he’s forcing out, “I’m _fine_ , Joseph.” 

Joseph’s mouth opens as if to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he’s closing it, giving a curt nod and resigning to the heavy silence. 

Mercifully, it doesn’t take too long after that to reach the KCPD. As Joseph pulls the car up into the parking lot, Sebastian takes note of the small gathering that has swarmed in front of the police department. _Of course, the press._

“Not even the rain deters them.” Sebastian mutters under his breath. 

His partner gives him a sideways glance before he’s exiting the car, Sebastian following suit almost immediately. The downpour soaks into Sebastian’s vest and dress shirt, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as it’s weighed down by water. Cameras flash as the two approach the crowd, microphones being shoved into Sebastian’s face as he’s bombarded by questions. 

“Are there any new leads on Krimson City’s serial killer?” 

“What can you tell us about the fourth victim?” 

He squints against the harsh lights, his face twisting into a grimace as he swallows down a curse. _He’s_ _beginning to really hate having his picture taken._

“No comment,” His voice is firm as he attempts to get by them, but they’re ever persistent at blocking his path. 

“What does this killer look like?” Another reporter pipes up. 

“I couldn’t see his face.” He’s attempting to shove through them once more, but he’s halted by another eager journalist. 

“How did you feel when you found that headless body?” 

“As any other _normal_ person would feel,” What kind of question is that? It’s getting harder and harder not to tell all of these reporters to fuck off. _Why can’t they just leave him alone?_

“Why did you let the killer get away?” 

Sebastian stiffens as if he’s been socked right in the gut. That particular question _stings_ , like rubbing salt into an open wound, serving as a bitter reminder of what he couldn’t do. It’s not as if he meant to let that _bastard_ go. They hadn’t been there. They don’t know what it was like. God, _he’s had enough of these people._ Though, right as he’s about to give them a piece of his mind, Joseph steps in. 

“That’s enough questions!” His partner intervenes, grabbing Sebastian’s wrist as he pushes through them, “Lock your doors, and don’t go out alone at night. We are going to do everything in our power to catch him.” 

More questions are thrown their way, but Joesph and Sebastian manage to fight through and get into the police department at last. 

The two breathe out a sigh of relief once they’ve made it in. Sebastian’s shoulders and hair are thoroughly damp. The nurse’s words ring in his head, _keep those stitches dry_ , but he can’t really bring himself to care at the moment.He’s reaching up, fingers brushing through his brown locks in an attempt to dry it. Joseph isn’t in much better shape either, left smoothing out the front of his uniform, before wiping at his glasses. It’s almost a comical sight. 

“It looks like I owe you again. I was about to make a damn fool out of myself.” 

Joseph’s head raises at that, “You can thank me by just taking care of yourself.” 

Sebastian is silent, busying himself with finishing off the last of his coffee, before tossing the paper cup into the bin. “I _do_ take care of myself.” He mutters at last. 

“And how do you define ‘taking care of yourself’?” Joseph asks with a raised brow. 

“I’m really not in the mood for this.” 

Joseph stares at Sebastian for a long moment, disapproval written all over his down turned lips and steely eyes. Sebastian stares right back, his glare sending a clear message, _drop it._

That’s when Joseph breaks eye contact, huffing out a long sigh, “Alright… We can talk about it later. Kidman and I will be waiting in your office once you’re done speaking to the chief. We’ll catch you up on everything that’s happened over the last two days.” 

_We are not going to have a talk about this later,_ he almost bites out, but he manages to hold his tongue. Instead, his expression is kept carefully neutral as he simply gives his partner a nod, before parting from his side. Though, even with how annoyed he is, he can’t deny the shame squeezing at his chest. 

The precinct is filled with the shrill rings of phone calls, along with the sharp scribbles of pencil to paper and the clacks of keyboards. Sebastian passes by several of his coworkers, either seated at the packed nooks of desks, or hovering around close to their offices. Most give him warm, sympathetic smiles, which he returns with a small nod of his head. 

Hopefully, he doesn’t get another lecture. He can only hope. 

The chief's office door stands tall and foreboding, _Chief of Police_ written in black letters against clouded glass. Sebastian sucks in a quiet breath, straightening up before stepping inside. The chief is sat behind his desk, nose buried within a stack of papers, before his gaze lifts at the detective’s entrance. He’s clearing his throat, brows furrowing as his eyes settle on Sebastian. 

“Castellanos.” He greets gruffly. 

“Chief Perrin.” Sebastian returns, “You wanted to see me?” 

“Yeah, I want to know what the hell happened out there,” The chief gripes, “You couldn’t catch him? Couldn’t even see his face?” 

Sebastian sighs, “Look, I’m just as disappointed as you are. It happened so fast-” 

“I don’t want any excuses, Castellanos!” The chief's hands are slamming against wood, his papers fluttering against the outburst, “This maniac already has four bodies to his name, and you could’ve had him. I’m beginning to question just how incompetent you are, and whether I should’ve put you on this case to begin with.” 

Sebastian remains unfazed, his voice raising, “Sir, let me assure you that I am _competent._ I was caught off guard, I wasn’t expecting-“ 

“Tell me one thing, Castellanos.” The chief cuts in without batting an eye, “Were you intoxicated that night?” 

A cold ball sinks to the bottom of Sebastian’s stomach. “ _No._ I was sober.” 

The chief doesn’t appear convinced, much to Sebastian’s distain, “What were you doing parading around the city in the middle of the night?” 

“I...” Sebastian hesitates for a brief moment, before his brows are furrowing, “I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk.” 

“Were you going to the bar?” 

“What the hell is your point?” Sebastian nearly snaps, hands balling into fists. 

“My point is, Castellanos, if you cannot get your god damn act together, you’re going to have more to worry about than just getting taken off of this case.” 

Sebastian’s teeth grit together, managing to at least suppress his anger. 

_“_ Am I making myself clear?” 

“Yes, I read you loud and clear,” Sebastian answers begrudgingly. 

The chief waves him off with disinterest, his eyes already landing back upon his documents, “Alright. Now get out of my sight. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.” 

Sebastian doesn’t need to be told twice, more than eager to leave. He’s turning on his heel without another word. Once the door is shut behind him, he’s huffing out a heavy breath. 

_God damn it._

His hands are lifting to his face, suppressing the urge to kick out the waste bin next to him. He’s so sick of this shit. The chief- No, _they_ all needed to mind their own fucking business. _They don’t understand what the hell he’s going through. He just wants to do his job, to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?_

He’s cursing as he gets himself together, before he’s managing to straighten up. His eyes settle upon the police department as he reminds himself to keep calm, to breathe. The memory of that night flickers through his mind’s eye once more, keeping him grounded, focused on his goal. 

Taunting laughter, a headless woman with roses. The knife, the camera. 

With one final calming breath, he’s striding through the station with new found vigor. 

_It doesn’t matter. He has a killer to catch._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading chapter 1! ^^


End file.
